


wear it well

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Creampie, F/M, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Polyamory, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: “Are Ryan and I dating? Or— something?”Shane looks up from his paperback, an eyebrow raised. “Babe I think you’re asking the wrong person.”





	wear it well

**Author's Note:**

> this starts soft and ends nasty idk what happened. i'm predictable.
> 
> [here are some expensive pajamas.](https://www.shopbop.com/cats-short-set-karen-mabon/vp/v=1/1536301167.htm)
> 
> [and here's a bingo](https://ebonybow.tumblr.com/post/187393610253/heres-a-fun-little-bingo-sheet-because-i-am-an)

It starts in the most innocent, sleep-addled way.

Sara wanders into the kitchen in her pajamas, as she does every other morning, to make coffee. She forgets that Ryan’s even there until he shifts around on the couch, head poking out through the blankets, eyes slitted against the morning sun. He reaches for his glasses where he’d set them down on the floor next to his shoes last night, and shoves them onto his face.

“Hey Ry,” Sara says through a yawn, “Coffee?”

Ryan clears his throat, croaking “Tea, please,” as he pushes himself more upright, curled up into the corner of Sara and Shane’s L-shaped couch. He’s tucked right into her usual morning spot, but she’s not about to ask him to move.

Sara takes out three mugs from the cabinet, two set to the side for her coffee and Shane’s, the third for Ryan’s tea. When she comes around to him, her mug in one hand and Ryan’s in the other, she notices he’s moved to free her usual spot; instead he’s sitting upright, wrapped in the striped blanket they usually leave draped over the back of the couch.

“There you go,” she passes him the mug, and Ryan smiles up at her gratefully, his hair wild, a fabric crease in his cheek from the throw pillow he’d slept on.

“Never took you for a matching pajama set type of girl,” Ryan says, pausing to take a sip. It smooths his voice over, and Sara would be remiss not to admit that she instantly misses the morning gravel.

“Oh,” she says, climbing onto the end of the couch next to him, reaching for the TV remote. “I— I’m not really. This is my only pair, but they’re comfy.”

“Cute,” Ryan says, and it’s only one word but it sends a rush of _ heat _ through her, fills her up with… something.

Shane wanders out of the bedroom then, also wrapped in a blanket. It’s oddly chilly for a late September morning.

“Morning,” Shane says, as he collects his designated coffee cup from the counter and then flops down on Ryan’s other side. “Sara, aren’t you cold?”

“Nope,” she says, pretty sure she’s already blushing. “Can’t feel it at all.”

.

That should be the end of it, a sweet little comment on a sleepy Saturday morning. It should be something Sara doesn’t give a second thought to.

But then October comes around with Sara’s birthday, and Ryan buys her a birthday gift. It’s not terribly unusual of him, just that usually his gifts come in the form of expensive alcohol and a cat-themed gag gift — she still uses the cat-shaped beanbag doorstop he’d bought her the year before. This year’s gift is _slightly _different.

The package is flat like a chocolate box but light, and Sara carefully unwraps it, marveling at the pale pink box inside, the deep red ribbon tied around it.

“Whatever this is, it looks expensive,” she says quietly. Ryan looks over from where he’s pinning string lights above the TV in preparation for the party later. 

“You only turn flirty thirty once,” he says, “Just enjoy it.”

Shane is now also looking over curiously as Sara unravels the ribbon and lifts the lid from the box.

Silk. _ Pink _silk, almost coral-colored, covered in a print of cats wearing various fun costumes. When her finger catches on a button, she realizes what she’s looking at.

“Are— Are these pajamas?”

“Yep,” Ryan says, and quickly turns back toward the string of lights that he now has tangled around his hands somehow. “Just— you said you only had one set and I thought it’d be nice.

Behind Ryan’s back, Shane raises a single eyebrow at his girlfriend. If Sara didn’t know better, she’d say Ryan was blushing. Sara turns back to the box, pulls out the short-sleeved button-up shirt and the matching shorts.

“Thank you, Ryan, these are gorgeous,” she sighs. “They look perfect, how did you know my size?”

“Oh, I just,” Ryan hesitates, “I just ordered a small, because. You’re...”

Shane’s face does something complicated and delighted, eyes widening as he looks between the two of them. Sara shoots him a warning glare, and Shane just grins back at her.

“I love them,” Sara says, beaming as she sets them back in the box, carefully folded. “I almost don’t want to wear them.”

“I didn’t buy them to sit in a box in your wardrobe,” Ryan smirks and glances back at her quickly. “Although I do think they’re dry clean only.”

Sara closes up the box to take it into the bedroom, pausing to kiss Ryan’s cheek as she passes by. She has to stretch a little bit to reach him, not nearly as far as she would with Shane, but enough that Ryan chuckles and bends his knees for her.

.

Sara’s thankfully far less hungover than she’d originally imagined she would be. With the sun coming in through a crack in the blinds, warming her feet, she’s also extremely comfortable. Strangely enough, last night, she’d had enough presence of mind to change into her pajamas before sleeping, and Shane had been more than insistent that she wear the set Ryan had bought. Now, she’s enjoying the warmth of the sun, the silk against her skin, the weight of Shane’s arm over her waist. He must be awake too because he slowly pushes his hips forward to grind against her, groaning softly into her hair as he stretches his limbs out. He’s hard, and Sara _wants_.

“Awake?” she whispers. Shane hums quietly, moves his mouth to the side of her neck where he kisses her, nips at the skin where her hair will hide it if she doesn’t tie it back.

“Mmmhmm,” he sighs, grinds up against her again, sighing as she reaches back to touch him. She slips her hand between their bodies, rolls her palm over the bulge of his cock in his briefs.

“You’re hard.”

“I want to do horrible things to you in these cute little pajamas,” Shane whispers to her, lips against the shell of her ear. “And I think Ryan does too.”

Sara feels something tighten in her belly, the fizzle of excitement.

“Shane, I need—”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and rolls her forward onto her front, climbing up to straddle her thighs.

Sara doubts she wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, and certainly not outside the bedroom, but she really does enjoy the way he handles her. Firm, not too rough, confident. 

He lifts her hips up, fumbling for just a second with the drawstring of her shorts before he can pull them down her thighs. He doesn’t even bother with the panties, just pulling them to the side and slipping a finger in to see how wet she is. Apparently, it’s enough because he doesn’t wait, and it’s mere seconds later when she feels the head of his dick pushing at her opening. She keeps her legs together as he slides in and — god, he’s already big, but like this, it feels like so much more.

They’re quiet, but not _that _quiet. The bed is four, maybe five years old, it’s gotten some use and it _creaks _a little when Shane fucks her hard. Sara huffs into the pillow as he slips his hand underneath her, and down into the front of her panties.

“All good, sweetheart?” he checks, quietly kissing the back of her shoulder, and Sara nods, turns her head to the side to look back at him.

“I want you to come in me,” she says, and Shane laughs against the nape of her neck.

“Anything for the birthday girl.”

The angle makes it difficult for him to _really _touch her clit, but each thrust pushes her down against his fingers, and it’s just right, just enough to get her there. Shane swears quietly when he feels her clench around his cock, how she gets even tighter through her orgasm, and only thrusts a handful more times before he sinks in as deep as he can go and stays there as he comes too.

Sara instinctually makes a quiet, helpless sound as he pulls out, feeling suddenly empty again. Shane carefully moves the seat of her panties back into place, pulls the shorts of her pajamas back up over the curve of her ass.

“Leave it,” is all he says, ducks down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll start breakfast.”

Sara rolls around in the sheets for a little bit, basking, until she suddenly hears laughter in the kitchen, two separate voices. She sits up in the bed, eyes narrowed, concentrating on the voices as she reaches for her glasses. It’s not hard to figure out who’s out there — there’s only a handful of people who made Shane laugh like that, and Ryan’s giggle is recognizable anywhere.

Briefly, she’s struck by the thought that he might have heard them, and it makes something clench in her belly. Before she knows it, she has her hand on the door, and she’s walking out to the kitchen, following the sound of the laughter.

Shane’s arranging cups on the counter, trying to make a clear space amongst all the party debris, and Ryan’s leaning in next to him, grinning wickedly. He’s still wearing the same shirt as the night before, though he seems to have lost a few buttons over the course of the night. His eyes snap to Sara as soon as she steps into view, and the grin on his face slackens as his face morphs into something like surprise.

“We were thinking about waffles,” Shane says, unfazed as Ryan goes silent and still next to him, clearly staring. When there’s no response, Shane elbows him gently, without missing a beat.

“Yeah, waffles,” Ryan agrees, quickly. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting— those are very cute on you. The color suits you.” The last part is aimed towards Sara, who awkwardly plays with the hem of her shorts where they hit mid-thigh. Shane glances at Ryan from the corner of his eye and smirks.

“Thanks,” Sara says, pretty confident that she’s already blushing. “Waffles sound great, are we ordering or cooking?”

“I’m going to cook,” Shane says, decidedly, “Because it’s Sara’s birthday, and also I don’t want Ryan burning down my kitchen.”

“And also because you’re weirdly specific about how you make your waffles,” Ryan adds, which Sara knows to be true — Shane feels extremely strongly about waffles.

“Yes,” Shane agrees, unbothered, “So. Y’know, drink your morning drinks and watch the news, I dunno. Go sit down.”

Sara wants to suggest that they tidy up a little bit, but drinking her coffee and relaxing in her favorite spot sounds perfect. Truth be told, her legs are still weak from a solid orgasm, and she can still feel how wet she is with Shane’s come any time she moves. It’s a strange mixture of feelings, the wholesomeness of the breakfast situation, the filthiness of her physical state, hidden only by her underwear and some loose silk shorts.

Ryan’s quiet as they settle down together on the couch with their cups, reminiscent of that first morning. Shane putters in the kitchen, singing quietly to himself and talking to Obi, who always knows when food is being prepared. Sara puts on a news channel on the TV but scrolls through Twitter on her phone instead. Ryan gets her attention by poking her elbow with a socked foot, and she looks over at him, and the other end of the sofa. He tilts his head a little, beckoning her.

“Come over here. We can cuddle.”

Sara can’t deny that she wants to, she’s just surprised that Ryan is so bold to suggest it. 

“Okay,” she says, and watches Ryan’s eyes light up as she sets her cup aside for some careful maneuvering. She crawls up between his knees so that she can settle in against his chest, right where his buttons are undone, shirt slipping aside to reveal a plane of smooth tan skin. The material of his jeans is softer than expected, worn black denim smooth against her outer thighs. He curls one arm around her, his mug of tea in the other hand, his eyes on the TV, and it all feels _good_, feels like something Sara wants.

And because she’s feeling a certain type of way, her mind wanders and she wonders what would happen if she were to just roll down against him, rub her hips up against the front of his jeans. She wonders how fast she could get him hard, if he’d unbutton and let her tug down his pants, if he’d let her climb up into his lap and sink down onto his cock, still wet and dripping from Shane’s earlier attention. (Distantly, in her mind, she commends her drunk self for leaving underwear on beneath her very expensive, very stainable silk shorts.)

She can feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and wonders if she’s imagining it or if it’s beating faster, harder than she would have expected. He’s so warm and solid beneath her, and she’s so tempted to turn her face into his chest, kiss that soft fluttering skin between his pecs, suck a mark into it.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Ryan asks her, and the question almost startles her. Feeling caught, she nods quietly, using the opportunity to snuggle into him a little bit more, shifting in a way that makes him gasp quietly, so soft she almost misses it. He smells slightly of stale alcohol, but also faintly of cologne, mostly of heat and human body.

“I’m still _having _a good birthday,” she answers, feels his huff of breath as he chuckles, smoothing his palm over her back and up into the curls at the nape of her neck. She can still feel Shane’s kisses there, the scrape of his teeth, the warm breath of his moans. Again, she wonders if Ryan heard them.

However, before Ryan can respond again, Shane comes around the corner with a plate stacked with waffles.

.

In the following weeks, nothing really changes.

Ryan comes by, sometimes stays over. Occasionally Sara will wake up earlier than usual to sit with him on the couch, sometimes cuddling. Shane makes breakfast every second morning and they eat around the coffee table in the morning sun.

Sara enjoys her pajama set and Ryan enjoys seeing her in them, so much so that one evening while she and Shane are relaxing, she googles the name on the tag to look for another, similar set. When she finds the designer and sees the price, she almost drops her phone.

“Shane?”

“Hmm?”

“Are Ryan and I dating? Or— something?”

Shane looks up from his paperback, an eyebrow raised. “Babe I think you’re asking the wrong person.”

“He bought me something extremely expensive.”

“Your cat jammies? Yeah. They’re silk, Sara. They’re designer.”

Sara groans quietly and puts her head in her hands, and Shane sets his book aside to scoot closer to her.

“Do you not _like _his attention? I thought you wanted to date him.”

“I do!” Sara blurts, upset, and then freezes. That isn’t something she’s said before. Shane’s watching her carefully, but his expression is open. “I do,” Sara repeats, quieter, and Shane smiles at her. They’ve both dated other people before, and Shane’s never been the jealous type — but the fact that Ryan is involved makes her just a tiny bit hesitant. “Are you okay with that?” 

“If I wasn’t, I’d have brought it up like two weeks ago when I first thought you might already be dating,” Shane points out, gently cups the back of her head with a large palm. “Anyway. It’s Ryan.”

_ It’s Ryan. _ Like that explains everything.

Maybe it does.

.

Luckily Ryan’s birthday is fairly soon after Sara’s, because she can’t think of a better reason to do what she’s planning to do, and it’s a nice reciprocal mirror in her opinion. Shane helps her pick out the gift (begrudgingly, until Sara reminds him that Christmas is coming up) and helps her make a plan — Ryan’s having a get together at the weekend, but his actual birthday falls on a Tuesday, which seems like the perfect time to get him alone.

Luckily he’s actually in the office on said Tuesday, and Sara catches him hanging around by Shane’s desk with him and Steven a little while after lunch, and she grins as they wave her over.

“Hey birthday boy,” she says, and Ryan loops an arm around her waist to hug her. “Was wondering if I’d see you around this morning.”

“Yeah we did a little late Postmortem filming,” Ryan says, and Shane nods in agreement. “I’m actually just heading home now.”

“You can walk me back to my desk on your way out,” Sara points out brightly, and sees Steven shoot Shane a slightly confused look but then immediately shake it off.

“Of course,” Ryan grins, sliding an arm around her shoulders as he turns to regard the other two. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

He lets Sara lead him back towards her desk downstairs, en route to the exit. For ease of movement, he’s dropped his arm from her shoulders but still walks close enough that their arms brush, that she could catch his hand if she so pleased. She kind of does.

However, the building isn’t actually that big and they very quickly reach the point where they should part ways. Sara takes a breath, puts her plan into action.

“You busy tonight?”

Ryan blinks, and then shakes his head very slightly after a moment. “No, I was just gonna chill out at home. Watch a movie or something. I could come over if you want to hang out.”

Sara tilts her head and hopes it’s cute. “Actually I was wondering if I could come over.”

“Oh, I mean, sure?” Ryan shrugs, a little confused. “But my housemates might be around so I don’t know if the living room would be free for the three of us—”

“It would just be me,” Sara interrupts. “We could probably just stay in your room.”

Ryan takes a second to process, tilts his head back to look down at her from beneath his lashes. He doesn’t have particularly long lashes — they don’t curl or gather prettily like Shane’s — but his eyes are so dark, so warm, and Sara holds his gaze easily.

“Okay,” he says, softly. “You and me. We’ll, uh. We can— I’m sure you have something planned.”

“Yep,” Sara says brightly, feeling warm as Ryan starts to grin back at her. He reaches out and tugs at a stray curl across her forehead, slides his fingers behind her ear almost as though he’s tucking some hair back. It feels more like an excuse to touch her in public. “I’ll come over around nine?”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, as though he wants to say something about how late she’s leaving it, but he doesn’t, just gives another little grin as he drops his hand and takes a step back.

“Okay. Nine it is.”

With that he turns to leave, and Sara ducks through to her bullpen, taking a seat down at her desk. Lindsay, who’d witnessed the whole thing, shoots her a curious glance, but Sara just logs back into her computer and forces herself to get back to work, ignoring all the butterflies of anticipation steadily building in her stomach.

.

Sara has dinner at home with Shane, showers, changes into some leggings and a sweater — an outfit she deems cute but comfortable — and packs her backpack with some essentials. And of course, Ryan’s gift.

It’s a little past 9pm when she rings the bell at Ryan’s front door, having already texted him about her arrival. He answers by flinging open the door, looking a little flustered, pinker in the cheeks than usual. Sara immediately spies his housemates loitering in the background, both grinning wildly.

“Hi,” Ryan says, breathless. She notices he too is dressed in some kind of comfortable Tuesday evening attire, some narrow-legged sweatpants, a soft-looking t-shirt. “Come in, please ignore the idiots in the kitchen.”

“Alright,” she says, but spares the guys a wave anyway and follows Ryan immediately up the stairs to his bedroom.

Ryan’s bedroom reminds Sara of her apartment in a way — framed movie posters and art adorning the walls, a few prized possessions on display (mostly sneakers), touches of personality everywhere. It’s boyish, but charming. Cleaner than Sara would have expected, but she puts that down to the advance warning Ryan had gotten.

Now that she’s here, she’s feeling a little nervous. 

“Okay, sorry about the guys,” Ryan says, closing his bedroom door. “There’s a reason I’m always over at your place.”

Sara smiles, wonders what went down before Ryan had opened the door.

“It’s fine, I just thought it might be nice to give you your present in private.”

Ryan’s blushing pretty hard now, maybe the hardest Sara’s ever seen him (and she really doesn’t need to be thinking ‘Ryan’ and ‘hard’ in the same sentence, but here we are).

“You didn’t have to do anything,” he mumbles, “You didn’t have to go to any trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble,” she says, circling her fingers around his wrist, guiding him to sit at the edge of his own bed. She slides her backpack off one shoulder and pulls it around the front. “Sit there.”

Sara searches in the front compartment of her bag for the small giftbox, the type someone would use to gift something small like a key or a watch or a pendant. She holds it out before she loses her nerve as Ryan watches her. “Happy birthday.”

Curiously, he takes the tiny box from her, lifting the lid. Inside there’s some tissue paper, and Ryan moves it around with his finger until he finds what he’s looking for. A small, black label, which he plucks out of the box, and turns over in his hand.

“This is...” he trails off, looking between Sara and the scrap of cloth in his hand. “It’s a tag. Where’s the…”

Ryan looks up at her a little sharply, the rest of his question hanging in the air. He doesn’t need to finish for Sara to reply. She drops her backpack by his dresser and takes a step forward.

“I’m wearing it,” she says, watching Ryan’s eyes zero in on her sweatshirt, slightly confused. She grips the hem and pulls it up smoothly over her head, revealing the coral pink lace beneath, watching as Ryan’s eyes widen and he leans back further on the bed, as though struggling to keep himself upright.

“Fuck,” he says, quietly. “Sara.”

Next the leggings go, so that she can show off the matching underwear just as lacy as the bra, both extremely tasteful Sara would like to think.

Ryan’s eyes are heavy as he looks her up and down, mouth slightly parted in surprise.

“This is for me,” he says quietly, a statement, more than a question. Sara nods and does a little three-sixty turn for him.

“Are they cute?” Sara asks, and Ryan looks as though he’s just been on the receiving end of a swift blow to the stomach.

“They’re— I wouldn’t say cute.”

“Good,” Sara replies, watches as he leans forward again, hand drifting upwards as though he wants to feel her, stopping himself at the last moment. “You can touch,” she assures him.

Ryan licks his lips, and she expects him to go for the tits first, but he surprises her by hooking his index finger into the front of the panties, following the lace trim across the breadth of her hips.

“I love this color on you,” he says and Sara smiles, takes a slight step forward to get between his knees. “Almost the same as your lips.”

Sara takes the opportunity to kneel, hears him exhale shakily.

“My lips, huh?” she asks, tips her head to the side. She knows exactly why Ryan likes this color on her. It makes him think of her mouth, makes him think of her pussy, maybe even the tips of her breasts — or how he imagines them, how he imagines her blush under her pale skin.

Ryan falls silent as he lifts his hips and she tugs his sweatpants down, not entirely surprised to find him bare beneath, already half-hard (which was also not a surprise).

“Can I?”

“Uh huh,” Ryan sighs, seemingly biting the inside of his cheek, maybe a way of restaining himself. His fingers are spread wide over the sheets either side of his hips as he leans back to give Sara more room when she takes his cock into her mouth.

She wonders if maybe she should have kissed him first, but Sara’s always been pretty forward about getting what she wants, and right now she wants this; Ryan seems to want it just as much, if the way he swells in her mouth is anything to go by. She takes it slow — it’s been a while since she’s done this for someone who wasn’t Shane. It’s not all that different, but it feels like it should be, feels like something new entirely. 

Ryan threads his fingers into her hair and she almost forgets to breathe, swallowing him down slow and easy, letting him push just a little bit. He almost seems shy about it, about touching her, but his noises aren’t shy at all. She’s surprised by the way he stretches her mouth when he’s all the way hard, the way her jaw aches after not too long. She can feel him twitch, can feel his pulse race against her tongue, against the roof of her mouth.

“Fuck, _Christ_, Sara,” he says, when she tries her best to take him all the way down; her eyes water and she gasps as he pulls her back. “You think by now I’d be able to last through a goddamn blowjob.” 

“Do you want to come on my face?” She asks, stroking him, “My mouth?”

Ryan whines quietly as she moves her free hand down to cradle his balls, massaging up behind with the pads of her fingers. His breath gets fast and shallow, and she briefly wonders how he would sound if she slipped a finger or two into him, if he’d like that.

“On my tits?”

“I don’t—” he shivers, bucks up into her hand as she squeezes on the upstroke. “I want to fuck you, I wanna—”

“There’s always round two,” Sara says, softly, so pleased by his eagerness. “We can do whatever you want, but I’d really like you to come for me now.”

“Oh fuck, yeah, okay,” he groans, pushing up into her grip and down against her other hand, “I’m gonna,” he warns her, breathless.

“Where?” she asks again, and Ryan sucks in sharply, abs tightening with his thighs.

“Don’t care, don’t stop,” he breathes out in a rush, and so Sara makes the decision, strokes him through it as he comes over her chest and neck. 

“There you go, good job,” Sara beams, and Ryan laughs through a moan, like the praise is unexpected — but if the way he twitches is any indication, it’s good.

“Fuck,” Ryan pants. “That was so good. Mm.”

“Classic pearl necklace,” Sara says, and Ryan laughs again, hoarse, breathless. He pulls off his t-shirt and hands it to her to wipe off, and then she climbs up onto the bed next to him, flopping down on the covers. 

“You really down for round two?” He asks her, slipping his hand into hers. Her fingers are still tacky with spit and precome but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yeah,” Sara says, with a distinct undertone of _duh_, “is it okay if I stay? Shane said he’d pick me up in the morning for work.”

“But he hates driving,” Ryan laughs.

“Yeah, but he loves me,” Sara grins.

“Understandable,” Ryan agrees, rolling towards her, and he pins the hand he’d caught over her head as he leans down to kiss her, a slow, deep, filthy kind of kiss. His other hand slides from her neck down her chest, all the way down until he cups his hand around the mound of her, pressing with the heel of his palm until she squirms.

“Y’know,” Sara says, “While we’re waiting for your dick to get back online I wouldn’t say no to a little third base.”

“Great minds think alike,” Ryan says against her mouth, stealing another kiss, “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.”

.

Sara climbs into the passenger seat of the car in the same clothes she’d left in the night before. Thankfully, they hadn’t gotten much wear, which is pretty much what she had expected. Ryan climbs into the backseat behind her, wearing the high-necked hoodie he generally dons when he’s trying to hide a hickey or two.

“Has Mr. Bergara deigned to grace us with his presence at the office today?” Shane gasps, but Sara can see he’s smiling, eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses. “Are we having some separation anxiety.”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, in maybe the fondest tone she’s heard out of him yet.

It really gives her something to think about.


End file.
